Bloodrush: Icy Submergence
by Mister Vix
Summary: More backstory to Bloodrush, sequal to Growing Wings. Zero is sinking into a pit of cold madness...and he doesn't really care.


Bloodrush: Icy Submergence

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Disclaimer: I do not own Megaman or Megaman-X.

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Author's Notes: Another one-chapter backstory for _Bloodrush_. I suppose you could say it is a sequel to _Bloodrush: Growing Wings_, since that's pretty much what it is. It takes place immediately after the end of _Growing Wings_. I just figured that a story following Zero's change into Bloodrush might be interesting.

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_ Always you'll remember my name. It shall be your standard._

Zero shook his head sharply, crouched on the floor of the totally destroyed Light lab. Idly he ran his hand along the tiles, smearing the blood that coated them in a long streak.

_ Always you'll remember my name._

He blinked, looking around. The disjointed thoughts bothered him, certainly, but at the moment he felt too weary to do anything about it. Why he should feel tired, he didn't know, but it wasn't his worry—he was off in another world. Just the strange half-memory of a voice hissing in his ear tied him back with the real one for the moment.

_ Call me Maverick._

Zero hit his fist off the floor, trying to banish the tag-ends of thoughts that kept plaguing him. He growled lowly and stood, swaying slightly, stumbling.

"Get outta my head," he hissed, as the memory just went on whispering in his ear, but the voice kept changing. It had been low and grating, then a thin hiss, but now it was a purr. Silky, intoxicating. Lulling. Like it was trying to put him to sleep. But frigid cold, so cold the thought alone made him shiver. He didn't notice he'd wrapped a number of strands of his long, molten-gold hair around his fingers until he tugged accidentally, then he whirled around, sharp eyes hunting for a perpotrator, until he realized he had done it himself. He growled again.  
_—someone siezed him from behind, wrapping their arm around his neck, heaving him off the floor as though he weighed nothing—  
_He put a hand to his neck on reflex. _Why?! Leave me alone!! Stay out of my head!!!_

He turned and ran, in a direction chosen at random, trying to escape from the things in his head.

_ You'll not remember this encounter...but you'll remember my name._ Too bad he _was_ remembering it, in psychotic fashion. He wanted to scream, but he felt like he was choking.

He hardly even noticed when he ran straight into a wall. With an animal rage, he punched the metal surface, his fist overcoming the resistance and going straight through with a metallic, shrieking crunch. He hit the wall again, tearing it down, furious that he was unable to fight the real cause—  
_"Who's there?" he demanded. A low chuckle answered him, and he turned his head in the direction he thought it had come from. "Who are you? What're you doing down here?" No answer this time. The footsteps had gone silent.  
_—destroying it entirely. He froze, then, staring, the half-memories fading for the moment. There was a room, here, walled off, no doors, no windows, no nothing. Just a simple room, with a capsule set in the middle, its contents protected by a shield of glasslike reflective energy. He stepped closer, his mouth slightly open in surprise, his half-blue eyes locked on the thing within the capsule.

It was a reploid. That much he knew right off the bat. There was no reason for Light to have sealed away just another robot; this thing had to be special. Zero took a step closer, and a slight smile played over his face.

The unawakened machine looked, for all appearances, like an ordinary young man, a fair complexion with dark, messy hair. His eyes were closed, and the expression on his face was peaceful, for all the world as if he had simply drifted off to sleep there. The thing was, instead of an average outfit, he had on slick blue undersuit which hugged his slim form tightly.  
_—something was sapping his strength, leaving him hanging, limp and powerless, in the stranger's strangling grasp. He could barely even draw breath into his lungs.—  
_Zero staggered forward, caught by surprise at the powerful, asphixiating memory, literally choking, as though he were being forced to relive it. As soon as he got that close, a warning suddenly rang out through the room.

"**Danger!**" the computerized voice spat loudly. "**Megaman X Light, prototype reploid, is possibly dangerous and should not be disturbed until the thirty-year testing period has been completed!**" Zero snorted with amusement. Megaman X? _Well, I guess humans can't be creative all the time..._

He stepped right up to the capsule, ignoring the computer voice as it repeated its message endlessly. He pressed one hand against the field protecting the prototype, grinning into it, the exact events that led him to this room forgotten. His attention span always _had_ been rather lacking, but now his short-term memory seemed to be suffering as well. He didn't really care, though, at the moment absorbed with a new question.

"What should I do with you?" he murmured. "I could just destroy you, rid myself of competition, n'eh? I would never have to worry about having a rival, then. Or..." and here his half-blue, half-steel eyes gleamed viciously, "...I could wake you up, and have an underling." His grin broadened, a psychotic expression, and he stroked his hand against the capsule's shield slightly. "Yeah. A loyal, powerful minion to follow me around and do whatever I said..." He looked down at the capsule's base. The panels and buttons weren't overly complicated; he figured he could find the one to dispel the field easily enough. Waking Megaman X wouldn't be too difficult, he didn't think.

**_ Back-off-back-off-out-of-the-room_** Zero jumped and whirled, baring his teeth.

"Not content to stay dead?!" he snarled, his hands twitching with the desire to strike out at something. "I recognize your voice, Bass! Coward! Useless dog!" He vehemently spat a string of curses, whirling around as though he could catch sight of the dead robot.

"I know, I'm losing my mind," he said to himself after a moment, forcing his arms down by his sides. "I'm hearing voices." He whirled around again, intent, now, on waking Megaman X, if for no reason other than to gall what he was certain was a madness-spawned voice. Schizophrenia, or something of the like. He didn't care. He couldn't care. His mind was in too much of a mess to care.

**_ Don't-touch-the-capsule. Leave-this-place. LEAVE! NOW!_** Zero, utterying a sound that was similar to a shrieking wildcat, turned and sprang, as though he could catch the intangible thing and shred it to pieces. He connected heavily with the wall, knocking himself temporarily senseless, and immidiately forgot what he had been doing. Staggering away, one hand held to his forehead, when he finally opened his eyes again he was in another part of the lab completely, one which he had previously left untouched. In a wild fit, he determined to destroy every last thing, leaping up onto one of the high shelves, knocking it over, and thrashing about like a crazed beast. He'd already killed anything that could be considered even somewhat alive, but he would not be content until he had leveled the entire Light lab.

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"What _happened_ here?!" she demanded, staring at the rubble of what had once been the Light laboratory. The other person standing beside her, a policeman, could only shake his head.

"Wily, I'm betting..." he said lowly, and the first woman nodded slightly.

"This is a disaster..." when she looked up, she realized that the policeman was not paying her the least bit of attention. Following his gaze, she found out why.

The person standing atop the mountain of destruction was, to her eyes, gorgeous, in a feral, terrible sort of way. His long hair, which was tossed lightly in the frigid wind, gleamed a molten-gold shade of blonde. His eyes were almost a cobalt color, blue and steel. He was bedecked in armor of a type she'd never seen before, blood-red and white with green gems set in the front of the breastplate.

And he was staring straight at them.

"Sir, I think..." she tapped the policeman's shoulder slightly, and he glanced at her. "Sir, I think we should go. Right now." She started tugging on his arm, and he took a few steps back. The red-armored blonde was getting closer, walking towards them slowly. He was grinning. She was terrified.

Then, suddenly, a huge cloud of dust and ashes rose into the air, and he was heading straight for them at impossible speeds, twin blue flames bursting from the soles of his large boots. He skidded to a halt not three feet from her, grinning down at her insanely. Now she could see the blood covering him.

She screamed, and he laughed. The policeman pulled his gun, trembling.

Three shots were fired.

All three hit.

The psychotic blonde didn't even notice, his metal body rendering the handgun completely useless. His hand shot out and wrapped around the girl's throat, and he lifted her into the air. The policeman was shouting something, and he decided that was slightly annoying. Not letting go of the woman, he leapt forward and spun, throwing out one leg, a roundhouse kick that snapped the pathetic human in two, and sent his tattered corpse flying, to land with a thud far off, turning the snow bright red all along its trail. The woman he still held had stopped screaming now, and when he looked down, he realized that he'd crushed her frail neck without even noticing, her blood seeping through his fingers, further staining his gauntlets. He shrugged and tossed the dead girl away, and walked on.

Where his mind was, he didn't know.

But wherever that was, it could stay there.

He was having fun.

****

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You're-a-monster. The grating voice's accusation seemed rather weak to Zero, who was lounging down in one of the deep halls of the Wily lair. Wily's body he'd disposed of simply enough; he'd shoved it down into one of the old freezers, where it would never get in his way. Bass's shell he would deal with soon enough.

"Tell someone who cares," Zero purred, then stopped. He hadn't meant to..._purr_...like that.

_ Always you'll remember my name. It shall be your standard._

"No..." he hissed, and wondered at whatever it was that he felt twisting deep inside himself. "...I'm not a monster...I'm...I'm..."

_ Call me Maverick._

"...I'm Maverick..." Then the twisting got worse, and he groaned lowly, wrapping his arms around his chest as though he could make it stop. "What..." He hissed a few curses, but found that he didn't really have that much breath to spare for them. Worse still, tearing him apart. He threw his head back and screamed, an animal sound, falling to his knees, hunching over, and gritted his teeth. He would not, would not, would not....  
...he screamed again, his body spasming against his will, and he hardly even realized his fingers were curled like claws, digging into his sides. He tasted blood in his mouth, and realized he was biting his tongue. His boots scuffed along the floor, his legs kicking in a useless gesture. He couldn't even find breath to scream, suffocating on nothing at all, and whatever those were running through his head—he wasn't sure if they counted as thoughts—were getting crazier by the minute.

Then the entire ordeal was over, leaving him laying on the ground and panting, his eyes partially glazed and staring at the ceiling. His hands unclenched and he uncrossed his arms, letting them fall beside him, hardly noticing the blood pooling beneath him from where he had ripped himself open. A single thought pervaded.

_ Why has Death touched me?_

He knew he was whimpering, knew the hot wetness running down his face was tears, but he refused to believe that he could cry from pain. Refused to believe he could die from pain. His mind told him it wasn't real. None of that was real. Nothing had happened.

And he forgot it was real.

**_ Everything's-bloody-where-you-are-concerned. Rushed-and-bloody. A-blood-bath. A-blood-rush. You-are-a-blood-rush. You-are-Bloodrush._** He wondered, now, at the voice. Where had it come from? Whose was it? He was sure he'd known the person it had belonged to, not so long ago, but he couldn't remember. Something was gone. Some piece of him. What happened to it?

**_ I'll-tell-you-what-happened. You-just-killed-Zero. You-killed-yourself-but-you're-still-alive. Bloodrush. Murderer. You're-as-dead-as-I-am._**

Killed himself...? Had he killed himself...? Something in his mind was laughing, laughing at him. It was speaking. Its voice was like cloth and steel, a purr that was as sharp as a razer blade. Its words held more meaning than the world. The world wasn't real. He stared at the ceiling and listened, his expression like that of someone in a deep sleep. Or a coma.

_ You truly are Bloodrush. Complicated suicide. Part of you has died, and part of you has lived on. You have experianced the pain of death, Bloodrush, and now you will never die again.  
__...but everyone else will._


End file.
